The Mojave Walkers
by GuillotineDreamer
Summary: Sequel to 'It's not His Time'. Set seven months later; the Courier returns from the Mojave. Featuring ED-E, the Courier, and Boone. Also, Alexis makes a reappearance. Along with Ferra, daughter of Cook-Cook.
1. The Courier

_Seven_ _Months Later._  
Boone wanders in through the Dino Dee-lite Motel, past the place where Jeannie would sit. He's just returned from his appointment with Ada Straus for the state of his form - the second Battle of Hoover dam, the torture inflicted upon him by none other than the Couriers' sister. Though he still has a slight limp and he suffers with yet more horrendous night terrors, Boone's been reverted back to his original state. Occasionally he sees Victor roll through the small town and, in the hopes the Courier could be with him, will follow the securitron with his scope until he disappears out of sight. Straus said it would be a good idea to just forget; that, sometimes when a person is forced to do something that causes them such grief, they become suicidal. And Boone would know all about that. The sniper simply seizes the whiskey bottle on his way up to the rooms, the rifle a comfort on his back.

He briefly looks into Manny's room; Haversam is sleeping on one of the mattresses, but Manny is nowhere to be found. Of course, it's daytime; Manny will be up in the nest. Though Boone solemnly speaks to anybody anymore he often seeks comfort in knowing the same faces are around. Familiar location, faces he knows. He takes solace in knowing nobody will disappear, nobody will suddenly die. If he can help it. Entering his room, Boone shrugs off his rifle and props it against the wall. Closing the window to shut out the light he simply drops onto his couch, knowing the hours he should be sleeping will be disrupted by flashes of the Courier. The sound of her scream on the Mojave Wastes - his entire body shivers and, massaging his leg where Rasari had slid a blade, he wonders if she _did _end her life out there, with the corpse of her sister. Would she be so weak?

When Boone's eyes open, obviously after a sudden sleep had claimed him, day has since passed. _Shit. _He's late for his shift. Legs shaky and head still fogged with sleep, he staggers up and seizes his rifle. Then, looking over, he spots something on the bed. Cautious, he wanders over, before lowering his weapon slowly. It's armor. Obviously taken apart and placed on the bed as it was removed, placed there as the owner took off the armor. It's leather reinforced armor. Battered in places, patched up in others. The chest plating seems to be ruined terribly on one area, and there's heavy blood stains on the metal. There is no mistaking it. It's Rasorah's armor.

He ventures into the hallway, clutching his rifle. As he trudges towards Dinky the Dinosaur, unsure why he's not searching around the place for any other signs of the Courier. Maybe he's gone insane. Maybe she was all an illusion - he grunts to himself, settling in the plaster cast of the dinosaur. Again, all he hears is the sounds of distant gunfire, the deep bellowing of the Brahmin. Boone settles, knowing he's been foolish. Like she'd come back. He was miserable and unsettling, and barely pleased her until one of the last pleasant nights they spent together. As he sits there, looking through his scope, Boone recalls the scarred flesh beneath his hands, her breath hot on his neck. Then there was Carla. His head filled with these images, these thoughts, Boone grits his teeth for a moment. Behind him, ED-E makes a soft beeping noise. **"Quiet," **Boone grunts. Before it hits him. _ED-E_?!

His head snaps round and, staring at the floating robot, Boone's gut coils. _Could it be? _Standing, he places a hand upon the machine to clarify what he is seeing. It **is**. But ED-E alone wouldn't be intelligent enough to locate Boone without instructions to say in the least. So, just maybe, Rasorah could be out there. Turning back to the jaws of the dinosaur Boone picks up his rifle and, just as he's about to run off, he catches a flash of movement down before the dinosaur, followed by the sound of a shattering bottle. A whiskey bottle. Boone swivels instantly and, looking down out of Dinky's maw, spots the blue of a prewar dress. The red hair. The red hair has since grown past her shoulders and, splayed on the earth on which she has collapsed, the Courier doesn't seem to be breathing.

Within that instant Boone has charged down the steps of Dinky, out of the Motel and to the spot where the Courier has collapsed. He is followed by ED-E, who apparently came to find him due to Rasorah's unbelievably unstable state. When the First Recon sniper finds her he crouches and, lifting her gently and supporting her head in one hand, he notes the horrendous scarring on her face. It's at least a year old looking at the state of the skin - gently, Boone passes his thumb over her lower lip and, feeling her breath against his skin, he lifts her. She's light in comparison to before - silently, in a state of near shock, Boone simply returns the woman back to his small room.

For the night Boone simply sits on the couch, occasionally glancing to Rasorah's form he laid on the bed. She's thin, malnourished, and her face betrays all the signs of a serious chem problem. Oh, and the psycho he found about her person. She's in a bad way and, still deeply confused, he merely waits for morning to come until he can alert Strauss. Every now and again Boone finds himself drifting around his room, as if unwilling to look at Rasorah. Still convinced this is all a dream, the Sniper finds himself curled up on the couch, his back to Rasorah and his beret pulled over his face.

* * *

**"She looks pretty rough, Boone. I can, er, patch her up. You say she just appeared here?"  
"Yeah."  
"You know this g'all, right?"  
"She's the Courier."**  
Dr. Strauss pauses as she stitches the last wound together, binding Rasorah's arm. **"****_The_**** Courier?" **She repeats, eyeing Boone from beneath her hat. The snipe simply looks down at the woman laid on the blue sheets of his bed and, though the blood has been cleared, she still seems incredibly frail. He just nods slowly, confirming, **"The Courier."**

* * *

Strauss said it could take weeks, months for Rasorah to heal after taking such a vast amount of a dangerous chem in a small space of time. But when Boone passes through his room on his shifts, his progress tracked by ED-E, he catches glimpses of her moving. Or her fingertips will twitch. He swears he hears her utter names, places - traces of things she'd done in her time that'd he'd been wallowing in his own self-pity. If he's going to help her, like she helped him, it would be time he did _something_. Of course, he's going to have to wait until she awakes.

It's on one of his night shifts that Manny actually comes up to find him. He emerges into Dinky's nest, wincing a little when Boone shoots him a daggering stare. **"What do you want?" **He asks, watching Manny shake his head a little. The former-Khan adjusts his beret and, clearing his throat, he says, **"I didn't know if you knew, but that chick's awake in your room."  
"Keep watch." **Boone replies somewhat stiffly, moving past Manny and disappearing down through the dinosaur; he has nothing to say to Manny, simply because it's become force of habit. The other sniper simply watches Boone disappear, his expression almost disappointed. But he's since grown used to Boone's attitude and, settling, Manny chooses to ignore it.

Meanwhile, Boone steps back into his room. ED-E is floating up in the corner of the dingy room, acting almost as odd as Rasorah. He props his rifle up against the door and, turning towards the bed, frowns when Rasorah isn't there. He does, however, hear a soft humming coming from the bathroom. That humming is familiar, the sound gut-wrenching as it sends Boone's mind back seven months. Those seven months seem so long, so long ago. That humming is the song 'Mad About the Boy', and she's humming it in that eerie, peculiar tone that she spoke with when he met her. Gently, using his finger tips, he pushes open the bathroom door. It creaks as it swings open. But the woman cutting her hair in the mirror doesn't turn around. Merely continues to hum - Boone stares at the Courier, almost transfixed. She's cutting her hair. Her head is tipped forwards and, using a knife, she cuts the back of her hair back to the way it was. Just an inch from her scalp, short near her ears. As her head raises she rakes a hand back through the severed strands, shaking away the excess, she raises her head.

She stares at Boone through the reflection in the mirror. High cheekbones and lips slightly parted. A large side-fringe falling forwards over her facial region, down across those hideous scars. Despite the heavy bruising, the scars and the tired expression on her face, it's her. She turns as Boone takes a heavy step forwards her; he takes her pip-boy free wrist into his hand, pulls her close in a rough motion and presses his lips to her own. The Courier stiffens beneath his hands and, for that moment, Boone believes she'd pull away. But she relents and, almost seeming to melt in against Boone's form, just returns his gesture just as enthusiastically as he.

As gently as he can possibly muster Boone lifts the Courier by her rear and lifts her to the blue spread of his bed. He looms briefly before he supports his weight on his hands - Dog-tags pressed to where the flesh of her chest blooms; his gaze finds those dark, dark eyes and, watching that hot flush appear over Rasorah's face, goes full throttle. He forgets her fragile condition, he forgets the months he's been wallowing in something like grief. He forgets Carla. Everything is thrown to reckless abandon and, raking his shirt up and over his head, Boone seeks comfort in what could be the embodiment of his madness.

Rasorah responds; nails on his back, a leg around his hip. It' settled. Eager hands tear away Rasorah's dress and, though she feels so flimsy beneath his hands, Boone simply tugs away her underwear in the same swift manner. Raising a little, Rasorah's lips brush his neck; a hand rakes up through her shorter hair, the other snaking down her thigh. Without so much as a whisper Boone removes his trousers, leans forwards, and pins Rasorah's hands over her head. His name is on her lips, but all Boone can hear is the sound of his own heartbeat. Placing a hand over Rasorah he leans forwards, rocking his hips and into her. Beneath him, Rasorah utters a soft sound; his mouth seeks her neck and, feeling her hands grip his shoulders instantly, the rhythm picks up.

Beads of sweat cling to his skin, breath rugged and hot as her own - he leans over her, her legs wrapped around his waist. Her hand resting at his hip, small of his back, the other hooked round beneath his arm and gripping fiercely; her veins are fire and, Boone's blood surges with every thrust, every rocking motion. This is different to that whiskey-fueled night at the Strip; every gasp and whimper is heard, registered, and responded to. Boone could swear he sees an unfamiliar aggressive spike. In the raking of his flesh, the way she utters his name in that feral, wild tone. He simply cannot hold it; the wild flower beneath him is tantalizing enough. But she arches her back and rocks her hips to meet his own, body tensing when Boone raises and seizes her hips. The Courier takes the release from Boone; his teeth gritted, muscles tensing and a slight shiver running through him - slowly he relaxes, Rasorah's hand simply resting at the nape of his neck. His head rests between the smooth curve of shoulder and neck, listening to the soft pattern of her breath. Just silence; the tangle of limbs and his hand laced into her own.

**"****_Rasorah_****."**


	2. Broken People

_Before you begin reading. I did some character images! They're linked on my profile. I'll update as you meet new characters._

**"Why did you send me back here?" **Boone enquires as he rolls on to his back, arm behind his head and slowly sliding his sunglasses back on. Besides him, laid on her front with her legs bent into the air, the Courier slides a cigarette into her mouth and sparks a match. A dark plume of smoke is exhaled from her lungs and, turning her head, she says, **"Dunno'. I didn't think you would have agreed with what I did."  
"And what was that?"  
"A secret."  
**Boone turns his head to arch an eyebrow at her; Rasorah's expression is vacant. Her dark eyes staring into space, lips slightly parted and the cigarette trailing smoke into the air. There's something peculiar, off-set about her and Boone knows she's probably done something she regrets severely. Killing her little sister is probably the first thing. Loading her system up on Slasher is maybe the second. Who knows; that dark, hardened look on her face is enough to prevent him from asking anything else for the moment. He _will _get it out of her, no matter how she resists. Rasorah, unaware of Boone's intent staring, simply takes another drag of her cigarette. _"She's just a kid, Courier! Just a fucking kid!" _  
Rasorah frowns.  
_"Leave her alone, please, Courier -"_ The sound of the scream echoes through Rasorah. Shakes her right through until she just shakes her head and stubs out her cigarette. When she looks to Boone he simply closes his eyes, asking, **"And what now?"**  
**"I was thinking some wandering, whiskey, and getting into trouble."**  
Boone opens his eyes, looking up at his ceiling. He needs to get away from this place for _good _this time. If that's murder in the Mojave, death by liver malfunction or just disappearing into the dust, he doesn't particularly care. **"I'm in."**

After Strauss is content Rasorah isn't going to drop dead if she leaves, the pair begin to prepare to leave. Properly this time. Boone strips the apartment of everything he needs - as he's about to duck into the bathroom to bathe when he spots something sticking out from under the dresser. He bends, retrieving it. It's an old polaroid - Carla smiles, unaware of the camera Boone had raised. Golden hair swept by the Mojave's breeze, her gaze cast up towards the skies. Of course he pockets this faded memoir of his wife, before he steps through to bathe.

Elsewhere, Rasorah slides a cigarette to her mouth and sparks the match. She's sat outside the Dino Dee-Lite motel, her eyes dark in the combination of dusk and the slow press of her thought. It's almost as if she's willing her end to come at this very moment. It's all the same. She fucks up, Boone goes back to Novac. She comes back in pieces and hey presto, it happens all over again. She can't keep doing this - it's not good for Boone either. He's out for death and so is she. A downward spiral; they're digging themselves a deep, terrible hole than one of them isn't going to climb out of this time. She prays it will be Boone. **"You alright?"**  
Rasorah looks up sharply. Before her, looking at her with a peculiar look on his face, is Manny. A former Khan, the former NCR sniper. His voice is a little more friendly than Boones' and, sitting down besides her, the spotter is just quiet. He likes this Courier - much more than Carla at any rate. But even he has the suspicion that Boone won't come back this time; there's just something about Rasorah. The wild spirit in her eyes, her damnation. **"I'm cool," **Rasorah replies, before taking a drag of her bad habit.  
**"You guys off again?"** He asks, lifting his Beret to run a hand through his hair. Of course they're off again. Why would they stay? The Courier turns her head to look at Manny, uttering, **"Yeah; gotta' sort some stuff out, y'k**now? Just..."  
**"I get it," **Manny says, lighting his own cigarette as he frowns. When he exhales, sighing, he utters**, "Whatever happens, come back at some point. Tell me what happened, and why."**

This road is paved with every good intention but Boone and Rasorah seem to be digging themselves their own graves so to speak. They're walking down the cracked tarmac, heat of the sweltering sun beating down against them. Of course, they're simply walking where the road will take them. Mentally, Boone knows the pathway Rasorah is following; the dead look on her face hints that she's only looking for trouble and, as they move through the blistering heat, the former soldier can only but _muse _over what Rasorah got up to during their time apart.

Meanwhile, down upon the pathway that Rasorah walks, Lillith stirs. Although it's almost empty now, Cottonwood Cove is still her preffered place to stay. The troops that remain here - not returning to Ceasar's main camp at The Fort - could be considered somewhat quieter. Currently she's lounging around in the Cottonwood Cove HQ, sat on Aurelius's desk. He's not back as of yet and, tuning the rdio and setting it back on the desk, Lillith merely waits. The radio crackles again before, just like the past month, before a song begins to play. Clear as glass. It's eerie and, as 'Stars of the Midnight Ranger' begin to play, Lillith sings along. **"Staaaars, of the midnight ranger... Shiiiining through the niiiight... Staaaaars, of the midnight ranger... Liiight my way tonight."**She laughs. The sound is genuine and, giggling, she slowly turns her head to watch the door open.

Aurelius steps into the second floor of the HQ, obviously not surprised to find Lillith here. He simply removes his helmet, wiping the sweat away with the back of his looks to the woman before him as she slides from the desk in a smooth motion. Long, black hair that falls past her waist - very uncommon for a woman of the Mojave - and her Merc Charmer outfit left unbuttoned deliberately so you can see the bloom of her plentiful chest. There's that sultry glint in her eye - that sway in her hips. **"That radio is ****_still _****playing that awful song?" **He asks, watching as the female comes his way. **"It grows on you after the eighteen hundred time," **She replies, voice a smooth purr. The female sidles up to him and, drumming her unusually long fingers upon his chest-plate, she simply purrs, **"Did you go and tell those 'Profligates' what to do?"  
**The tall man utters a laugh, the very same as he had first uttered the day Lillith had appeared in the camp, sent with a letter from Caesar. **"That I did," **He comments, lifting Lillith via her waist; the woman laughs herself and, finding herself settled on the desk before him, she grins. **"I thought the Legion liked your women in rags, Aurelius."  
**A grin, **"You're not one of our women."**

Outside, as he comes to check on a few documents and tend his limp, Decanus Severus hears what is occurring between Aurelius and Lillith. He sighs a little. That mercenary is trouble, he knows it. But she has a damned pretty face, a smooth voice and mystery. Could melt the heart of any Legion. Laughter; he looks up, pinching the bridge of his nose when he hears Lillith say, **"Take of the chest plate. Pllleeeassse Aurelius. I'll let you call me a profligate." **He hears armor hit the floor and his commanding officer let out a throaty laugh._Lillith: __ . _* * *

Farra:  .   
. 

Elsewhere, in the depths of Vault Three, a temper is brewing. Out in the snaking formation of the Vault she can hear the commotion of her fellow Fiends taking a good few hits; laughter and all the radios turned on at the same time. Sweet god. Once or twice one of the older Fiends come to find her, usually asking her to make the Stew her Father used to cook. From her position sat against the wall she merely grunts, saying, **"I'll make stew later, ****_if _****you fuck off quickly."**  
And, true to their due, they always fuck off quickly.

This fiend is older than their new Leader, Alexis. But she's always been the scrawny girl's friend. Since they were little. Her Father, Cook-Cook, was killed by the Courier. Alexis had the right to kill Motor Runner - but that's her story, not Farra. Farra, the Fiend who wears her blastmaster armor at all times. The fiend whose golden-blonde hair is singed and falls jagged around her face - she's always covered in blood, in grime, and smells of the fire she was born to. Today she has no desire to go out into the Wastes and pester the new republic as they spread their forces through the Mojave. Very unlike herself. Usually, she'd be out under the sun by now, gutting a soldier just to run off off with their severed head. Slowly, she drums her harrowed fingernails against the floor, frowning heavily through her thick fringe. Something... Isn't right.

**"Farra?"**  
The fiend looks up, her pale eyes finding Alexis. The other woman slips into the room, her black hair sticking up all over the place and that familiar glaze of jet over her green eyes. **"Hey, 'Lexi girl," **Farra utters, shifting. Patting the space next to her, Farra gestures for Alexis to sit. The scrawny, though taller woman sits, raking her hand through her hair. **"Wassup?"  
**Something rumbles in Alexis's chest, almost a growl. **"I dunno', Farra. Something's missing."  
"I agree." **She says, flexing her hands slowly. She's immune to burns. Or so she thinks; her nails are oddly long for a Fiend. Most of them chew their nails, cut them for practical reasons, or just don't have any awareness of themselves at all. These nails are blackened, horrendously charred, and her skin blistered in places. Gently a skeletal hand slowly curls around her own hand; Farra looks into Alexis's face. Alexis grimaces, saying, **"You have an idea, don't you?"  
"I sure do Lexi baby, I sure as hell do. And it starts with that Courier woman."**


	3. Unnecessary Violence

Boone and Rasorah opt to travel to the Cottonwood Cove overlook in order to survey the situation beforehand; they pass Camp Searchlight, where a heavy green cloud hangs in the air. Boone casts a grim, tasteless look up at that cloud, knowing the Legion's previous actions against the Camp. Rasorah mutters something about Ghouls and, pressing on eagerly, they descend down into the Mojave. Occassionally ED-E will let out a series of low, distorted beeps, his rickety form shivering; there's no time for hinderances at the moment but Rasorah makes a mental note to look at his wiring again at some stage. There is mostly silence between the Courier and Boone; mostly because Boone can feel the familiar dread claw in his gut at the mere thought of Cottonwood Cove. He knows the set up of that place like the back of his hand, but he cannot displace the memory of shooting his own wife in the head. The image of her golden hair ruined by blood; the panic of the Legion as they looked for the direction of the sniper.

Of course, Rasorah is _aware _of Boone's discomfort here. But it simply has to be done. The Legion may have been defeated as a whole, but their pockets of soldiers will remain. Caesar himself is probably still out there - but that's a situation that has to be addressed separately. Anyway. The trio come to the Cottonwood Overlook; boarded up beach homes, two dumpsters and a truck. Obviously nothing of interest. Crouching, Boone looks through his scope - the Legion are unmotivated in Cottonwood Cove, but their numbers are surprising. Boone had expected a slight depletion at least - besides him Rasorah mimics his action, scanning the area below. **"We could pick them off a little from up here," **She suggests, but Boone's attention is caught by ED-E hovering rather intently over by the truck. **"Tin-bucket's found something," **He says, wandering over. Looking into the back of the truck Boone gathers what the little bot has been looking at. Radioactive waste. _Perfect_. He turns, a small smirk on his face. **"I have a plan, Courier."**

Boone explains, with great enjoyment, the plan of emptying the radioactive waste down into the Legion camp. Almost payback for what they did at Camp searchlight. The Courier is more than happy to oblige - until she spots the Family in a slavers' cage.** "I'm not tipping waste on them," **She grunts, raising to her feet, "I have an idea. But you're going to have to bare with me."  
**"Alright."** Boone says, raising also.  
**"I'll go down. You stay here with ED-E, and I'll get the family out. As soon as I'm clear, you let the radioactive waste rain down on the bastards. 'Kay?"**  
Boone arches an eyebrow, shrugs a little, before he looks down at the camp. **"That seems alright. I'll pick off anybody who gets too close; be careful."** But his words go unheard; the Courier bolts off back down the tarmac road. ED-E goes to follow, but she calls back, **"Wait, ED-E, I'll come back don't worry."** Settling, Boone aligns his scope, primes his weapon, and waits for all hell to break loose.

It's just as the sun disappears behind the Hills that Boone spots a flash of armor disappear behind one of the Camp's buildings. Boone wonders what he'll do once he and Rasorah split once and for all - probably relist with his old unit. If he comes out alive. Deep in his heart, Boone knows he's not going to make it into a state like the elders of the Mojave. And neither will Rasorah. But that knowledge is a comfort; they won't be forgotten at any rate. The Courier will leave herself a Legacy. A legacy of blood, revenge, and torment. And yet, Boone can't help but wonder... What _if _that child had been born. What if... What if...

Down below, Rasorah moves on her toes, holding her breath at every corner. As darkness descends upon them she turns off the light of her Pip-boy, slowly looking around the corner of the storage building. _Fuck_. Canyon Runner, the soldier who has the key she requires, has just entered the Storage room. Violence time it is, seeing as she can't do _shit _with explosives. With all the quietness she can muster, the Courier enters the Storage building a little while after Canyon Runner.

Meanwhile, Boone notices a woman exit the HQ on the upper floor. A female with long, black hair - she's looking out across the Camp, smirking a little. Something constricts within Boone; a memory withheld. He knows that face. That subliminal smirk; the golden shade of her skin. But his mind cannot place her at all. Looking up at the trailer besides him he idly wonders how fast Rasorah is getting to business; he hasn't heard one gun shot as of yet.

Rasorah slowly withdraws the machete from Canyon Runner's throat, blood pooling behind his head. Simply taking the key she emerges from the Storage room in a quick, eager fashion, trotting towards the cage where the slaves are kept. A shiver runs through Boone who watches Rasorah unlock the gate quickly - the flashes of Carla are overwhelming. His heart is refusing to settle and, as that black-haired woman begins to call a name, the situation becomes fiercely dire. Below, Rasorah approaches the eldest of the captures, pressing a finger to her lips for him to remain silent. To keep her hands from shaking Rasorah holds her breath, unlocking their collars. They thank her and, running off, the first gunshot shatters the air. A Legionnaire falls dead, obviously had been on the way to strike Rasorah dead.

As Legion troops begin to pour out of the buildings, Boone has no choice. He picks off what he can, but the flashes of crimson overwhelm his senses. His hands shake abruptly and, gritting his teeth, he forces the thoughts of Carla and his previous actions aside. Eventually, he spots Rasorah. She's just watched the Weathers family depart and it seems she's about to run off - instinctively he pulls the lever. There is a heavy clunk and the barrels of radioactive waste go tumbling down the rocky hillside, clouds of green raising into the air. Some of the soldiers look up, their eyes widening when they see what's headed for them - they scatter, but fall when the poison reaches them. Boone just watches, smirking, as they drop like flies. That smile vanishes, however, when he spots Rasorah.

The Courier grunts, holding her hand over her mouth and she signals for Lillith to follow. The other woman, taller than the Courier, also clamps a hand over her mouth as the green cloud descends over Cottonwood Cove. Boone finds himself powerless, yet again. He can only hope Rasorah stops fucking about; there is a moment where the sniper believes she's going to die. Genuinely. His chest tightens and the familiar twist in his gut appears - but he spots the flash of red hair clambering up over the rocks, accompanied by the mysterious woman with the black hair. He kneels, offering his hand; Rasorah grips it firmly, heaving herself up and over the ledge. Still gasping for breath and eyes watering, she turns on the dirt, offering her hand to Lillith. The other female seizes her hand in a tight grip, using a hand to drag herself up and over the ledge also.

For a precious moment they merely sit there, their backs against the trucks, panting for breath. Slowly, running his gaze over this other woman, Boone narrows his eyes behind his sunglasses. He confirms he knows her; the dark scar that stretches from her collar-bone and disappears past her cleavage is the feature he can identify. _She's a pretty face, Craig. Dangerous though. I know what she's like - she was fierce, even for a Khan. _Manny's words. He knows it! Where is she from, where... **"Thankyou," **Lillith says, still a little breathless, as she raises to her feet. She's clad in the Merc Charmer clothing, and it suits her form well. **"I shall take my leave, Miss -"  
**Rasorah stands and, seizing Lillith by her collar, she drags her down to look her in the eye. **"Women aren't usually allowed to walk about in a Legion camp, ****_Miss_****. You're not going anywhere. Unless you start talking, I'm going to cut out your tongue." **The dark shade of Rasorah's eyes bore into Lillith's own; the other woman simply smiles, simply saying, **"Courier." **Rasorah grimaces and, before she can speak, Lillith simply unhinges the grip upon her clothing. **"How do you...?"  
"How do I know who you are? I am a mercenary. The world of the Courier travels among people like you and I." **A subliminal smirk slips over Lillith's features and, brushing her hair back from her face, she purrs, **"I was sent to Cottonwood Cove by the NCR. I work as an informant, ****_Courier, _****and I exploit every opportunity within that field that I can. A camp full of frustrated, deprived soldiers? You may not see the advantage, but I do."  
"Prove it." **Rasorah snaps, her pupils still dilated heavily by the radiation dose in her system. Simply brushing her long hair out of her face, Lillith pulls a piece of paper from her front pocket. She presents this to Rasorah, of whom cannot read very well; but she does catch the words of the new republic, and General Oliver's signature. Slowly she passes Lillith back the piece of paper, saying, **"I'm Rasorah. That's Boone, and my little robot is ED-E. "** As the Courier lists each name Lillith simply locks eyes with Boone. He doesn't show any expression, but Lillith knows what he's thinking. Eventually, after a long pause, she says to Rasorah, **"My name is Lillith Andevor, Mercenary for hire. Oh..." **She saunters past Boone, saying in a terribly dark tone, **"I know who he is."**

* * *

They leave Cottonwood Cove under a deep cloud of green, the soldiers dead. Their corpses with their eyes rolled back, mouthes open in choked, silent screams. Perfect in Boone's opinion. They're travelling up back the way they had come, with Lillith walking in front of them. By Rasorah's demand. **"Who is she?!" **Rasorah hisses to Boone as they travel. She tells ED-E to 'walk' with Lillith and, doing so, it leaves the Courier and the Sniper to talk. **"I can't remember who she is," **Boone utters in reply, massaging his temples when he catches the dark glare the Courier throws at him. **"I swear, Courier. I think I'd tell you since I've told you everything else."  
"I think she's lying... She looks like she's lying... Is she lying?"  
"Calm down, Courier," **Lillith slowly turns around on the pathway that they're walking. Both Rasorah and Boone jolt to a halt, lifting their weapons instinctively. But Lillith merely withdraws something from her side, saying, **"Manny Vargas was my friend. Carla was my salvation." **  
Boone's eyes widen behind his glasses, pupils shrinking dramatically. How could he of forgot this female, this woman with eyes like ice. Lillith takes a step forwards, holding out a Polaroid for Boone to take. Slowly, as if caught in a dream, he takes the photograph and raises it so he can see. The image before him makes his heart leap. Carla and Lillith are stood, leaning on each other and laughing, on the Strip. Carla is waving, Lillith holding a cigarette - **"I took this picture," **Boone mutters, mostly to himself, **"A few days..."  
"... Before you left for Novac." **She finishes the sentence for him, before turning around and resuming to walk.

There is an awkward silence. The trio begin walking again, silently, with just ED-E's soft beeps to break the tension every now and again. The Courier glances at Boone out of the corner of his eye, looking at the frown on his face. Boone himself is trying, almost desperately, to place Lillith's face completely. There's something peculiar about her. Something he's missing. After a while Rasorah simply trots past him to join Lillith, obviously to be nosey. Rasorah's curious nature is almost undeniable. Something about those dark eyes. Lost to his own fractured memories, Boone falls silent. Listening. He hears Lillith say, very quietly in response to Rasorah, **"I never followed them, because Craig hated anybody being close to Carla. Manny hated Carla. Even from the start." **Slowly Lillith places a cigarette into her mouth, her violet eyes dropping as she watches the tarmac. **"I'm on my way to the Strip, Courier. My contract was terminated months ago. I simply hang around here and there - you know, they talk about you a lot. There's whispers of the red-head on the Mojave wastes. Amongst the Legion, the Fiends, the new republic." **Her eyes turn slowly. Rasorah is staring up at her, and she can feel Boone's eyes on her too. In response, Rasorah merely asks, **"Where y'headed, Lillith?"  
"Me?" **The taller woman chuckles drly, offering the Courier a cigarette, **"I'm headed nowhere. Do you fancy hiring a Mercanary? I'll be cheap."  
"You must be really bored, huh?" **Rasorah asks, accepting one of the cigarettes. They light up and, listening to Boone reloading his weapon behind them, Lillith just nods and says, **"Bored? Wrong term, Courier... Tired would be better."**

It takes some thought, but eventually Rasorah relents. This woman is a direct link into Boone's pain - maybe she'll prove useful. Or maybe, some things will come to light. Either way, one more to the trio couldn't be a bad thing. The red-head casts a glance behind her, looking at Boone with a measured gaze. He stares right back at her, as if willing her to drive Lillith away back into the Wastes. And, just by that gaze alone, Rasorah knows that one of them is hiding something. **"Sure thing," **The Courier says, **"Come with us. We're headed for Vault Three. From there... Probably to drown out more Legion."  
"Making a stop at the Strip I assume?"  
"Of course."  
"Lovely - cigarettes, drunken soldiers -"  
"And whiskey."  
"Why, dear Courier. We could be friends."  
**Rasorah laughs, **"I try not to make friends on the Mojave, Lillith."  
"But why?"  
"They're going to die."**


	4. Lillith's Murmurs

They walk. And walk. And walk. They walk along past Wolfhorn Ranch, down the dusted road. For some time Lillith and Rasorah make incredibly idle talk, Boone walking with ED-E, when the bitter smell of roasting flesh meets them. Instinctively Boone draws his weapon, but Lillith merely says, **"There's no Legion here anymore. They were wiped out..."** _Totally wasn't me. _Rasorah thinks, just nodding in approval. She still doesn't trust this woman; no matter how many caps were at hand, Rasorah would never stoop low enough to work for the bastards. Ever. This flaming town - Nipton - has been left to ruin. Slowly, moving through the town, the foursome fall into a grave silence. Boone feels the grip on his rifle slowly tighten at the sight of the crosses. They are so close to leaving, so close to moving away - when a strangled voice calls out, **"****_Lillith_****."**

They all freeze. But Lillith doesn't turn - she merely halts, her purple eyes lowering slowly as she hears Rasorah's teeth grit. There is a click as Boone primes his weapon. **"Lillith, please -" **Boone's eyes narrow as he readies for the shot but the Mercenary is too quick; she turns sharply, black hair fanning out behind her. That pathetic voice belongs to a Legion member. He's young, though, obviously frightened by the scarlet blood that is pooling beneath him. Slowly, her footsteps measured, Lillith draws towards the boy who is sprawled upon the floor. **"What's going on," **Boone utters to Rasorah, but the Courier just shrugs. Looks like she missed one. Gently, Lillith takes the boy's chin into her hand, placing the other on top of his head. **"Lillith, n-no, I -"  
"Where is Caesar? ... Tell me, and I'll let you live."  
"H-he went back to the fort. Please -"  
**Lillith smiles slowly, her purple eyes alive with malice. **"I lied."**  
There is a sickening crunch as Lillith snaps the young boy's neck; he slumps into his own blood, dark eyes wide with the ghost of his fear. Another life snapped up by the Mojave. As Lillith turns she merely chuckles at the wide eyes of Rasorah and Boone. She literally just killed a child. Simply wandering past the gawping pair she murmurs, **"Just business."**

Once again, the rolling of cracked tarmac becomes their only company. Every now and again ED-E zooms off, returning a while after. They travel along the Nevada State Route 164, coming to the Nipton road pit-stop; they scavenge for what they can, but only find some healing powder. They continue along the road. Rasorah's noticed Boone's deathly silence, and the way his eyes have glazed behind his glasses. Even as they move up towards Primm, a town where Rasorah has been before, Boone doesn't utter a word. In his mind, Craig Boone has been met with a severe barrage of emotion and thought. He still cannot place Lillith's face, her intent. But something within him tells him that Lillith can be trusted, though he doesn't exactly know _why_. There has to be a reason. He usually distrusts everybody. But the way she saunters before them, her eyes cast asunder... Lillith is familiar. Even the way she smells of fire, and the intoxicating fragrance of mystery. She's so... Different._ Like she came from a different time_. A better time. The words he spoke about Carla hit him harder than he'd like.

They pass Primm, the town since moved on to better times since Rasorah purged the scum living there. Rasorah can only pass a glance upon the place as they carry on along the route. They're tired, their feet aching as they navigate along the cracked tarmac. After days of walking, unstopping, they come to the desolate area of Hunter's Farm. The last time Rasorah was here, she was attacked by a group of savage death claws. Wonderful. But today, as the sun slowly disappears behind the horizon, the trio of humans can only seek shelter here. The Courier provides the last of her water and scraps, whilst ED-E is left outside to patrol the area. They collapse inside - Boone tells the two women to take the bed. Of course they just disappear. As the sun disappears behind the hills, plunging the Mojave into darkness, Boone settles besides the door. He slides a cigarette into his mouth, sparking a match. The light dances off his sunglasses, enhancing the shadows on his face. A dark plume of smoke is exhaled and, leaning back, he listens to the howls of the Mojave.

* * *

There is no rest for the wicked; Boone's mind is horrendously restless, but sleep attempts to claim him on multiple occasions. Delusions and images of the past. A terrible blur of blood and laughter, carnage and the warm flesh beneath his hands - his body jolts. As he sits up, beret sliding from its position, he finds himself face to face with none other than Lillith. In the darkness her form is peculiar; the shadows slip over her angular features, enhancing the jut of her collar bones and the smooth transition to where her chest pushes against the fabric of her clothing. She's crouched before him, a dark expression on her features. **"Andevor," **Boone says, adjusting his beret slowly. He instinctively reaches for his weapon, but Lillith simply stands. She slides a cigarette into her mouth, sparks a match; he sees the cold flash in her eyes. The brief flash of flame exposes the scarring on her hands. Boone stands himself, smoothing out his shirt. Where's ED-E? Still humming around outside. When Lillith turns she pulls the pistol from her side, aiming between Boone's eyes. He tenses, frowning. But the female simply says, **"We need a little talk."**

This 'little talk' opens Boone's memories. The images pour back into his mind, consuming him; he can hear nothing but his heart rate, watching Lillith's mouth move as she speaks. He remembers where he saw her. Amongst the Legion troops when he had shot his own beloved through the head. Sauntering down the Strip, arm in arm with none other than Manny... Laughing with him as they stood besides the bar, sparking up a cigarette. He remembers Lillith Andevor. He remembers the way her hand had gently clasped Carla's when she'd said she'd move with him - something in Boone tightens and, lunging, he wraps a hand around Lillith's throat. Instinctively she reaches up, the cigarette falling from her startled mouth. A hand slowly curls around his wrist, the sharp nails pressing against his flesh. **"What happened with you and my Carla?" **Before she has chance to answer Boone lifts Lillith from the ground, before tossing her to the floor. Her body does not crumple like Rasorah's has done; Lillith skids, weight balanced on her toes and against her fingers. Then, slowly, she raises. She stares at Boone, expression calm, before she simply lashes out. She darts forwards, slamming her shoulder into Boone's chest with a sickening crack. His back slams against the wall, Lillith's body oddly close to his own.** "You killed her, son-of-a-bitch," **She breathes and Boone feels the bite of metal against his throat, **"You took Carla away from what she loved, where she belonged. She belonged with ****_me_****."  
**  
Boone shoves Lillith away, watching the blade of her knife flash in the gloom. Her expression is lost to the darkness and, straightening, Lillith purrs, **"I would have saved her,****_ Craig_****. If only you hadn't followed that Military streak in your blood -"  
"You sold her! You helped sell her!" **Boone spits, his rage surging through his blood. He leers, drawing his machete from his side. The Merc and the Sniper let their gazes meet, but Boone is bemused by the expression on Lillith's face. The other female slowly runs a finger over her knife, saying, **"I offered myself to the Legion on a plate, did the unmentionable, let them do whatever they so pleased. And you believe I'd sell the woman who I gave my life to; left my roots, my very Origin, for Carla." **Lillith slowly sheathes the knife, peeling back her clothing slightly. There is a number. Branded into her skin. **"I stood there among the soldiers, with the intention of purchasing Carla. I was going to take her away, back to the Strip. Home - but you... You ruined it all."  
**Boone's whole body freezes and his blood runs cold. The machete drops to the floor in his disbelief and, frowning, he just begins to shake his head. **"I left Manny, for Carla. I let them go. Your brief interlude of happiness was my doing,"** Lillith utters slowly, her voice still retaining its smooth taints. Her head lifts and, her black hair falling back from her angular face, she merely states, **"I have become nothing more than the Legion's dog in the name of Carla and her unborn child - you may loathe them for taking your beloved, Boone. But I have their number branded into my very flesh, their crimson is my soul - hot breath on my throat, hungry, evil eyes that haunt every waking moment that I dare to possess. Because of you I am trapped within their grasp; even a Legion mongrel appreciates a woman who is not clad in rags."**

From the other side of the bedroom door Rasorah slowly places a hand over her mouth, unable to believe what she just heard. She hears Boone utter a short sound, like a whine. A strangled sound.

He slumps to his knees, head in his hands and every breath laboured. A shiver ripples through his muscles, heart tightening. Slowly Lillith simply slides back into the other room, granting Boone some form of dignity as she shuts the door. The Courier simply looks up at Lillith, her dark eyes brimming with the same rage as Lillith's own. That feral spirit of the Mojave instilled within them. But it's simply beginning. The end has began.


	5. Beginning of the End

She plunges the blade through the twitching Rad-scorpion again, satisfied when it ceases to tremble. Bloody things are nothing more than a pest - raising her head, dirty-blonde hair tousled by the loose breeze that whispers across the Mojave. Her eyes, blood-shot, narrow a little - as the sun raises, the sickly yellow light spilling across the waking land. Shadows form and, her scarred held in the darkness, the Fiend simply raises her hand to her face. Gently, with fingertips that have lost most of their feeling due to their terrible burn scars, she traces the scar that runs over her left eye.  
**"Farra -"**  
Somebody's calling her, but she's just being deliberately ignorant. As she bows her head to inspect her bitten, dirty nails, a Fiend comes out of the Vault behind her. He's taller than her, skin the same tanned shade and he is streaked with soot. **"Farra," **He says, breathless. Obviously been running to find her. His hair slightly longer than most of the Fiends', as they seem to favour shaving their head and just being ridiculous in all manners. **"Th'fuck do you Rowan," **Farra snaps, turning to look at him. He offers a grin, making the split on the side of his lip very obvious, and rakes his red hair back from his face. **"Guess what."  
"If you're here to bug me -"  
"I fixed your flamer."  
**Instantly Farra's dark mood lifts. She grins, **"Oh really? That's actually fuckin' fantastic. I always fancy some toasted Courier in the morning."** Laughing, the Fiend turns back towards Vault Three. Slowly, at a sauntering pace, she wanders past Rowan. The tall Fiend casts his dark eyes out across the Mojave and, trotting after her, he wonders if she'll make some food soon. Scavenging other people's rooms in the Vault has given him more than a few black eyes.

Judging by the sounds of manic laughter outside, somebody helped Farra fix her flamer. A few of the other Fiends in her vicinity freeze, staring upwards as the echoes of Cook-Cook's daughter laughter comes through the Vault. **"I'm not sure if I prefer her with or without the flamer,"** Somebody says and, from the other side of the room, Alexis says,** "Well. Without the Flamer she'll just cut your throat." **Alexis hops off of the pool table, her dark hair swaying. Those dark green eyes look dead. Same as all the other Fiends that are staring at her - hungry, angry eyes. She thought she could save them. She thought that, with the death of her Father, they could have turned this all around. But most of them ran into the Wasteland, picked off by the growing forces of the NCR. Was it fear? She doesn't even know. It's Daniel who comes into the recreation area, looking at Alexis with a bemused expression on his face. **"Uhh, did you say that Courier was a red-head?"  
**Alexis turns her head. For a brief moment Daniel sees the flash of Motor-Runner in her eyes. That cunning, that dangerous glow that feeds the crazy streak within these people. The only person worse than Alexis is Farra, but her madness is linked to the fire that she loves so wildly. **"Yeah," **She replies. There's the sounds of gunshots above and, frowning, she says, **"Who's she with?"  
"A robot, a soldier and a Merc."**

Blood splatters across the floor and, reloading the hunting revolver, she shoots another Fiend between the eyes. It's been so long since she's watched the blood spill of such people; too long since she's moved along with people who share that same flame in their blood - Farra is faster than they anticipated. That flamer should be restricting her, but the Fiend moves with the same alarming pace as her Father did. **"Courier," **Lillith murmurs as they duck behind a table, the flame narrowly missing them. The heat makes Rasorah's eyes water and, turning her head away, she grits her teeth. Why did she let Alexis go. **"Take out the rest, then we'll worry about the bloody pyromaniac."  
**The Merc nods and, diving past the opening as Farra calculates, she swerves - the Recreation area is completely clear. Boone and ED-E must have cleared through pretty fast; her pupils narrowing with focus, the Mercenary moves through into the Living Quarters.

Boone shoots the Fiend between the eyes and, watching the body fall back through the door, he presses on. The little bot flanking him sounds that typical alarm sound; here they come. The Fiends are relentless and, obviously severely low on Jet and Psycho, they drop like flies beneath the snipers' bullets.** "Hey -" **  
Boone swings around at the sound of a strange male voice. He looks up. It's a Fiend, but a somewhat odd-looking Fiend. His red hair almost reaches his shoulders and his eyes are almost black - deep scars run across his face, across his chest, but he is incredibly alert for a Fiend. **"Easy soldier," **He says, frowning when Boone snarls. He holds up his hands slowly and, indicating he has no weapons, he watches Boone lower the rifle. The Fiend opens his mouth to speak when Rasorah comes skidding around the corner, one side of her face scattered with blood and her armor singed in places. Coming up behind her quickly is Lillith, her black hair swaying back from her face. They all pause, stunned by this peculiar behaviour of the Fiend.

**"What the fuck?" **Rasorah mumbles, lowering her weapon. The incredibly tall Fiend drops his hands, saying, **"I'm Rowan, I was an NCR soldier before Alexis brought me here."**  
**"That's a lie,"** Boone grunts in response, raising his weapon abruptly. His eyes narrow behind his glasses and, taking a pace backwards, a deep echo runs through the vault. It's Farra. **"You've killed everybody, haven't you?"  
**It's Lillith who answers. She holsters the revolver and, moving a hand to her pocket, she opens her mouth to speak. Until the barrel of a rifle is pressed to the back of her head, and a female who's only slightly smaller mumbles , **"Rowan Lowe. You don't have to lie Rowan -" **Alexis pushes them all into the room, where the corpse of the Fiend Boone killed is slumped against the wall. Instinctively she shuts the door, listening to Farra hunt for them. **"Go and try to subdue her or something Rowan," **Alexis sighs; the remaining group just stares in disbelief as Alexis lets the tall male exit the room. Then, lifting her rifle, her expression sours considerably. **"Rowan was sent to follow from Camp Forlorn Hope - to kill everybody in this Vault. He's not a Fiend at all, Mister Boone... He's here for Farra - But anyway what are you guys doing here...?"  
"Saving your sorry ass," **Rasorah grunts, strapping her rifle to her back and frowning, **"I saw what the Fiends are doing. You ****_don't _****belong here Hart; you can't save them, alright? You can't."** Taking a few hefty paces towards Alexis the Courier extends a hand - Alexis takes the offered hand, frowning**. "They'll only follow you in violence and bloodshed, Hart."**  
**"You won't take Farra,"** She replies darkly; her hand drags Rasorah closer to her and, ignoring the sound of Boone readying his rifle, she says so quietly, **"I won't tell you why, but I owe Farra everything."**

* * *

**"Farra. Farra, calm down -"  
"Let me fucking go, Rowan!"** The female struggles beneath the hands of the larger male, expression twisted into a snarl. When she's ceased her wild writhing she stares up at Rowan, panting for breath and her eyes wide. The pale blue is almost white, so bright in comparison to her tanned skin. **"Just calm it -"  
"They killed all of them! They -"  
"I was sent here to kill all of you, but you trusted me." **  
Beneath his fierce grip Farra falls still, frowning at him. Disbelief in those pale, pale eyes. She looks at the scars on his face, the glow of his tanned skin - could he really be? She won't cry. Farra would _never _cry, but she feels her gut twist. **"Rowan, you fuck,"** She spits, turning her head when Alexis comes around the corner. The younger girl is flanked by Boone, ED-E, Lillith and Rasorah. And they simply look at the Fiend who stares at them. That disbelief shifts to rage; Alexis. The very girl she saved? Sacrificed her own freedom for - betrays her? Every muscle in her body tenses and, her head snapping up again so she can look at Rowan, she opens her mouth to speak. But he simply draws her up to her feet, clamps his hand over her mouth and says to the others, **"Is there nobody left?"**  
**"Not a soul."** Rasorah says, lighting a cigarette. **"We're headed up the Strip; Hart. I suggest you and your little friend here go for a full detox in the Clinic. They'll shoot you on sight if you're dressed like Fiends -"  
"I am a Fiend!"** Farra attempts to say behind Rowan's large hand, but she's silenced as he just holds her close against him. With no regard for Farra's flailing Lillith turns and says, pulling a cigarette out herself, **"I have a mercenary troublemaker outfit, perfect for a woman of your tastes Farra."  
**Those burning eyes scream 'Fuck You', but Lillith merely smiles at the Fiend-Child. Alexis is frowning but, looking at the taller woman, she just sighs. **"You are a trained Medic, Miss Hart?"  
"... Yes."  
"Doctor's Fatigues would suit you nicely, then. I trust Mister Lowe has something to clothe himself with."  
**Rowan just smiles a little, his scarred face changing. How could the Fiends believed he belonged here? Somebody with such bright, almost kind eyes doesn't belong among nothing more than junkies. It's only Boone who notices the gentle way that Rowan holds Farra. Even the hand clamped around her mouth isn't frightfully tight; he's in love with a wild woman. He then notes the scars on his face - **"You're a...?"**  
**"Veteran Ranger,"** Rowan replies to Boone, **"I was stationed up in Camp Forlorn Hope when I saw Hart leave with you." **For the first time, Boone finds himself in the presence of a Veteran. Somebody who is his superior. And Rowan had known all along. As he begins to move Farra towards the exit Rasorah shoots Boone 'that' look. **"I know, I know," **He says, beginning to follow, **"Cat got my tongue, whatever."**


	6. Ashes

After dropping off Alexis, Farra and Rowan - of course, after Rasorah has negotiated with Dr. Usanagi to sort Farra out, the remaining trio head off towards the Strip. They intend to enter through the north entrance, but Lillith pauses. She runs her violet gaze up the gate before, shaking her head, she turns to the Courier and Boone and says,** "I have a little business to attend to," **She muses, gaze distant. And, just like that, she begins to walk away. Rasorah and Boone exchange a bemused look and, looking back at Lillith, the Merc decides to prove an answer as she meanders away. **"I have a few contracts to see too. Plus, I'm not too fond of the Strip any longer. Ta-ta." **The pair merely stare as Lillith moves away. As she goes she can be heard to be singing 'Stars of the Midnight Ranger' as she goes, moving in her usual manner. Boone and Rasorah look at each other and, Rasorah mouthing 'oh-kayyy', they enter the Strip.

The Lucky 38 looks ghostly; as they pass the structure Rasorah glances to it, recalling days of torture and blood-loss. A silent shiver moves through both herself and Boone and, pausing, Boone slides a cigarette into his mouth and says, **"I'll see you in the Morning."  
"Where ya' going?"  
"To gamble. Maybe think."** Boone replies, turning away from the Courier. He begins to wander away from Rasorah, leaving a plume of dark smoke in his wake. The Courier watches the red beret fading into the bright lights of the Strip. Stood alone with ED-E, Rasorah simply chooses to allow Boone to go. After overhearing what he and Lillith had discussed she's been wondering, inwardly, if Lillith had been telling the complete truth. She suspects not. So, simply taking a cigarette and placing it into her own mouth, she flicks a match. Whiskey? Yes.

Boone settles in the Tops, almost content to be away from women. Simply because women seem to cause him extreme problems as of late. Soft-spots that he doesn't care to dwell on right now. So, ordering a beer, he decides he'll sit in here and drink himself into a stupor until he becomes unconscious. Then he'll wake up and repeat until he thinks he has enough of his mind back to carry on. His beer is presented to him and, pinching the bridge of his nose, he lowers his head. _Hot breath against his ear, sharp nails digging into his shoulder. _He exhales a dark plume of bruise-coloured smoke. _A tear slides down his face and, taking a breath, he pulls the trigger._

She presses her calloused fingertips together, watching as the whiskey bottle fills her glass again. Her eyes are heavy, the machine buzzing around behind her. The faces of this Mojave Waste drift past her memory, shards of things she should class as important. But all she does is knock back another glass of the hard whiskey, her expression dulling to a whole new degree. The life drains away from her features - hand poised on the glass, blood drying on her leather armor - somewhere in this dark place on the strip, where the Whores are dancing in the dim glow of Gomorrah's light, where the soldiers of the new California Republic drown their sorrows, and the fading memories of Carla Boone and her best friend, Lillith Andevor, drift on by... A Courier raises her gaze upwards, the dark orbs of caramel.

Out beneath the starlight, Alexis Hart looks back at Rowan. In his arms he's carrying Farra, of whom had eventually changed into the Troublemaker Outfit the Merc had given to her. Rowan, now clad in his trench coat and proper gear, seems to be so out-of-place as they head towards the clinic. It's only a while down the road so Farra's severe tremblings due to the withdrawal symptoms from the heavy Chems. In the arms of the Veteran the child of Cook-Cook seems so small, her wild blonde hair splayed over Rowan's arm. The Mojave whispers so sweetly to Alexis - Rowan's dark eyes find her own, settling gently on the younger female's face. Alexis tilts her head and, when Rowan indicates to the pack on her back, she goes to have a look. A smile. How he found her old clothing she doesn't quite know, but she's going to ignore the fact he was probably stalking her for quite some time, and simply grins at him.

And elsewhere, out on the Mojave, the Mercanary walks. Her long, black hair sways out behind her, pace casual and almost leisurely. As she walks she sings to herself - Stars of the Midnight Ranger, as always - and she shakes her hair back from her face. Above her the skies are clear; a vast expanse of darkness scattered with stars. And of course, somewhere in the Mojave, something screams. But Lillith can only find comfort in such misery. For her, there is no romance. There is no mercy. Only the law of her own heart. A heart filled with vile hate and pain, a heart that longs to achieve what Carla said she never would. Happiness. _You'll never be happy, Lil. There's always something in your head. _Oh yes. And they'll never sleep. Anyway. As she ventures on she passes the sleeping tents, the sound of soldiers muttering to each other very prominent. She drifts on, her pace so very delicate. It's almost as if she's unheard among the people here - those in red stare at her briefly. It's been a while since she's been here, but they've been waiting. Well, he's been waiting. And as she brushes through the tent's entrance and pauses, hand on hip and a loose smile on her face, she purrs, **"Caesar."**


End file.
